Life in Israel
Last month, a couple from Beit She'an, an Israeli city about 20 miles south of the Sea of Galilee, was simply out for a walk. It was just an ordinary evening walk, but Beit She'an is no ordinary city.
As a child growing up in America, the Jewish holiday Lag B'Omer was just a minor holiday. We had school on that day, but it was an extra fun day, usually in a park, and if we were lucky, we attended a bonfire at night. Certain names and customs were associated with the day, but although I had an excellent Jewish education, I had a very poor grasp on what the day was all about. Then I moved to Israel . . .
I was 18 years old the first, and last, time I visited Auschwitz. I was on a tour designed for Jewish teens to learn firsthand about the Holocaust. We traveled to Poland, where we visited death camps, concentrations camps, monuments, and cemeteries. We bore witness to the millions of shoes, suitcases, glasses, strands of hair, and prosthetic limbs that were . . .
This is how my kitchen looked last week, on the day before Passover: Oven racks were scattered on the counter, covered with anti-grease spray; the refrigerator had been taken apart, scrubbed, then put back together through reverse engineering; the dining room table and chairs were scattered in the . . .
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